I see families of wolves in the woods in winter.
Not a whole lot keep them apart,
Except for the occasion complaint about
Enough food or even
Going about their own way to find a mate.
Some stay close to family,
Some travel far away to settle down.
They remind me of us
As we go through our lives
Wondering what we are doing with ourselves.
We get used to being so close to our pack,
Being groomed, feed, coddled.
We then reach an age where
All we want to do is leave,
Find our own way.
Once we do, what then?
We travel under the moon's pitied gaze
Into an uncertain forest or
A wide tundra of white ambivalence
And suddenly we feel small.
Alone, we navigate through the world
Hoping to figure out answers
To questions we haven't been asked yet.
It is an uneasy life.
Not many of us succeed.
We are all just lonely wolves
Seeking our way.
Sometimes, I look up
And gaze at the moon.
I cry along with her
On nights we wish we knew more.